


Friendship and Betrayal

by MateriaFlower1_1



Category: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy IV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Love Triangles, One Shot, One Shot Collection, One-Sided Attraction, Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 10:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14376519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MateriaFlower1_1/pseuds/MateriaFlower1_1
Summary: *Prompt Series* Rosa. Betrayal. Doubt. If. Four words and ideas that had haunted Kain since the day he could remember. His unrequited love and brief interlude would drive him to the edge of madness and all the way back again, teaching him the harshest lesson of life which he bore in solitary and then rewarding him with the most unexpected and precious gift he could ask for.





	1. Friendship & Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a one-shot series, and naturally, it begins with a two-shot! Yeah, I know - go figure!

Rosa. Even her name gave you an idea of just how lovely she was. Her lips were as soft, luxurious and pink as a new rose's petals, her eyes like the finest sapphires which lay upon creamy skin of the softest texture. Her bed of golden hair fell in sun coloured cascades down her back like an untainted sunset. It is not difficult to see why exactly he fell in love with her. It is not difficult to see why she was the object of so many men's lust. It started out fine at first, the three of them (Rosa, Cecil and he) would play together as usual. Until one day, after the conglomeration of minute changes over time finally stood out: Rosa and Cecil seemed closer than ever before, almost inseparable. And so in love. Of course, he knew they were the closest of the three - it was almost his premeditated fate to be alone - but even so it was unbearable to his sixteen-year-old self. Yet as time went by and as the fool he was, he continued to stay with them; stay with the friends that would ultimately become his destruction.

Betrayal. It came when the voices of evil slowly seeped into his mind, wrapping their slithering arms around the seeds of evil and the tendrils of his shattered heart. She had gone after _him_. She had gone after the one he called his best friend, his childhood companion, and left him alone in her wake. But the evil, it was there for him. It cradled his broken mind and convinced him to join them, he would get _her_ that way; and even though he knew what he was doing was wrong and disgraceful, and he couldn't bring his last thread of consciousness to stop this madness.

Doubt. It settled into all their minds after he re-joined them. It was strange at first, seeing his more familiar blonde haired beauty after being with the other blonde, who he couldn't seem to get out of his mind. Even the feel of her touch clung to his body like nothing he'd ever felt before. First the Fabulian Monk, silent in his doubt yet it rang true in his eyes. The knowing look that plagued the monk's eyes every time they grazed over the dark dragoon. Next but more subtly; the green haired summoner who'd mysteriously grown into a fine young woman during the span of six months. She was much more concerned in her doubt; concerned for her beautiful friend's welfare and heart. Finally the brash, childish and somewhat love-struck prince of Eblan came stumbling – almost literally – into their party like the bumbling child he really was. He was very vocal in his doubt, always the first to speak out and accuse everyone minus his dear summoner. But _she_ never did. Even when the holy paladin Cecil began to think against him - when his best friend turned his back, she never once doubted him. Always at his side, always tantalisingly far, the paladin and her had grown infuriatingly close, close enough the sow the seeds of evil, hate and jealousy into his almost non-existent heart. He would wait forever for the day when she'd see him as more than a friend, but it never came. He would even die for her, but she would never do the same.

If. Always if. Anything was possible with an  _if_. He didn't know when it started, maybe when the silence of the grey moon (why they called it the red moon is something he would never understand) got too much to bear without being forced to look deep into your soul – something everyone else was clearly doing by the almost unbearable silence – he began to wonder 'if'. If she had chosen him instead of the once dark knight, would he be the outcast? _If_ she had come to him first, would she be walking by the paladin's side, their hands infuriatingly intertwined? _If_ he had never met Cecil and merely kept Rosa for himself, would they be here now? Would they be enjoying a married life? With an idyllic house full of happy children with blonde hair and captivating sapphire – amethyst eyes?

Maybe.

But it was not to be, and he when he was more melancholic than he'd ever been, he stole away from the white city of Mysidia, shortly after the stumbling and saddened Green haired little girl he'd saved so long ago had departed in a hurry (probably to get away from that rash prince). Flying into the night, he took refuge on the remote mount ordeals holding to atone for his many sins. And there he stayed, in silent and torturous solitude for many, many years.

In the end, he didn't wait forever for the day when she'd see him as more than a friend, as ten years after taking his solitude, he deserted the lonely mountain as a new man, a holy dragoon, and stumbled upon a large surprise in a far-flung town near Troia. A boy of ten years stared up at him from under short, blue, almost silver, tipped blonde hair with exotic amethyst eyes that lay upon unblemished, tan skin, reminiscent of his own. He had an air of mystery and power about him which reminded him of a blonde from so, so long ago, in the life of a long gone Kain. The boy dropped the basket of spearheads he was carrying dutifully with a crash and explosion of metals; strong arms which could only be attained through dragoon training trembling mildly as he looked him at the man before him. He could see the young boy swallow roughly before slowly opening his mouth.

"Dad?"

 


	2. Friendship & Betrayal

He stared in the boy's familiar purple eyes, completely dumbfounded. Apparently the boy was too, but he quickly recovered himself and picked up his dropped basket; the boy made his excuses and mumbled something about it not being possible. He placed one strong, gloved hand onto the not as small as he originally thought boy's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. He steered the boy towards the nearest inn type building he could find, sitting the boy down with a large mug of warm beverage.

The boy explained everything to him with a little bit of prodding, from the strange circumstances of his mysterious arrival one day as a baby in this city, to the power and skill had had over the winds, far surpassing the talent that any dragoon had, even himself! And now, on the eve of his tenth birthday, he had finally found his father, the man whom the boy had always dreamed of meeting. His heart melted at that, and a small hole in his heart slowly began to knit itself back together. Aurelius, an apt name for this mysterious young boy, had brought back feelings he had long thought dead. Emotions he'd never even acknowledged, ones he'd hidden behind other's he'd fixated on. It was no question as to whom the elusive mother was, there was only one woman - or was she a woman in the end? - who had that extreme power over the winds, the other blonde from his deeply suppressed past. She was the one who had still retained the largest imprint on his mind, her touch and taunting laughter still haunted him to this day.

It took him six months to get his son - it still sounded strange - around to the idea of his father arriving. At first, he was angry, then the anger turned to sadness, and finally after much persuasion and bonding, understanding. Many a morning he had found himself not having slept a wink, but rather watching the up and down of Aurelius' gentle breathing. He felt so guilty for not being there for his son. Selfishly, he ruminated over the moments he'd missed. The one person who needed him more than anyone else in the world had had to stay on their own for ten years, and there would not be another ten lonely years. Not on his watch.

Aurelius - the name was one he'd been given as an outcast. He was the only citizen in the city who had a name like that. An old name, a strange name, a name that hadn't been seen for a thousand years. How fitting. It was the perfect name for a son of hers. It was almost as though the elderly man - the one who had found him and named him before cruelly shipping him off to an orphanage without so much as clothes on his back - knew he would be a powerful dragoon; as though he knew that his son would have extreme power over the winds.

From the day Aurelius came around, they set out together across the broadening world. Father and son travelled far and wide sharing stories and memories from ton kind ago. They tried to make up for the lost time, Aurelius never once blamed his father after those six first months, Aurelius was just glad he had his father now.

They travelled far and wide, stopping by Fabul, to visit Yang and his wife and now nine-year-old daughter; they stopped at Damcyan and stayed with Edward and his colourful court of musicians; they stayed in the smaller towns such as Kaipo for a few years and toured across the continents to visit the new towns that had sprung up in the wake of Gaia being saved. They even spent a few years in the blisteringly hot underworld with the strange but kind-hearted dwarfs. Everywhere they went, they trained and learnt new techniques, father and son training and striving for strength in companionship.

Almost last, they stopped at Baron. His son, now fifteen, didn't know why he was so nervous - he hadn't told him about his dark past with the blonde queen. Eventually, with some guilt-tripping and cajoling, he was pulled into the castle by Aurelius. He was surprised that some of the older castle guards still recognized him, it had been nigh on fifteen years now. As soon as they reached the throne room, his oldest friends immediately jumped up in surprise. Initially, they thought they were seeing a ghost, not even noticing the curious teenager next to him. The blonde beauty eventually broke the almost chocking silence and ran up to him to give him a bone-crushing hug, almost tripping over her long white dress as she scrambled to meet him. She looked almost the same but older, happier than the last time he'd seen her; her long blonde hair still seemed to reflect every ray of life, her sapphire eyes still possessed the vitality of young life and her skin was still as smooth, showing the first signs of ages. He smiled to himself and hugged her back, surprised at how friendly he felt towards the hug - maybe the last of his romantic feelings really were gone. He looked over her shoulder at Cecil who was smiling ear to ear. He too looked older, more so than Rosa though; his eyes crinkled mildly at the edges and his face looked slightly tired, but he otherwise seemed happy, very happy. Standing confused where his parents were just a minute ago was a boy, maybe a year or so younger than his own son. His hair was short, spiky and very light blonde; his eyes were a sincere Persian blue and his skin was eerily reminiscent of a young Cecil: smooth and lightly tanned with a strange, luminous undertone. His face held a confused expression until Cecil filled him in - Ceodore. That was his name, he was named after both his father and uncle in a portmanteau. He introduced his own son, and both boys sized each other up before Rosa sent them off to play.

What followed was hours upon hours questioning. Rosa was shocked at Aurelius' parentage but Cecil didn't even flinch - he had always suspected that Cecil knew more than he let on. He had this way of knowing everything but saying nothing that Kain at once coveted and hated.

A few months after arriving in Baron, Rosa and Cecil presented him with an invitation. It was from Eblan, an invitation to the Crown Princess' coming of age celebration. Aurelius questioned who this princess was, but he didn't know either. When they did find out, it didn't surprise him, he'd known there was something between the ninja and the summoner. They departed together for Eblan, deciding to make their own way instead of joining the Baronian royal family. Aurelius called upon the power of the wind, aiding their swift journey across the shimmering azure sea.

They arrived in the evening, as the ball commenced.

Walking down the vaguely familiar halls, he was lost in memories, the incessant questions of his son were lost to him. Eventually reaching the source of the loud orchestra music, He stepped through the large oaken doors, gaining the attention of three regally dressed figures. He didn't even notice the small intake of breath from his son behind him. He immediately recognized the two older figures; Edge looked a little older and was dressed much the same as he used to, but Rydia looked very different to the last time he saw her. She looked older yes, but also much happier and more in place here. Her long green hair reached her hips now and although her face was still much the same, the attitude shift gave her an almost entirely different appearance. She no longer looked like a scared little girl that was out of place in his eyes. Both ex-heroes sported a crown; small, but a visible sign of their regal statuses.  
Next to the king and queen stood a young girl. She must have been fifteen, although her face was very youthful. Kain paused in his thoughts. Perhaps she didn't look young for her age; perhaps she simply looked her age in a world that wasn't infested by evil. Perhaps she didn't have the capacity to internalise evil as Kain had once done.

His son stumbled slightly behind him, although he was busy talking with Edge and Rydia, not missing the slightly surprised expression on their faces at his sudden return to civilisation. They'd heard rumours but didn't believe them – wouldn't he have come to see them sooner?  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the young girl leading his son across the dance floor as the other Eblanian princes and princesses crowed over to their mother and father to be introduced to him. Their various coloured heads - they had hair ranging in a myriad of colours, from purple to silver to green - obscured his view as they walked away further, but he smiled to himself under his ultramarine helmet. Maybe his son would be the one to get the happiness that had been so absent in his parent's lives; and God knows he deserved it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the two-shot - just to be clear. I hope you liked it!


	3. 021. Deception

_ 021\. Deception _

He knew he was deceiving her from the outset. She was just there, convenient, and wholly what he needed under his blank, broken mind. He didn't have much control over his actions, but he did enough for that. His motives, however, had become black; any old friend he wanted dead, any semblance of joy in their lives - gone. He wanted to revel in the sins and bask in the dirt of the world, turning a blind eye to the light that blinded his mind. But she too was wrong. She used him, took advantage of his less than consenting state and twisted every word he said to her advantage, whether of his own volition or not.

She looked all too much like her - the woman Cecil had claimed as his own. Long, flowing blonde hair of near identical hues; soft, unblemished porcelain skin, lain over symmetrical features - although hers were sharper, more exotic looking; and a soft body, shapely and yet slim. But her eyes were different. And it was there that the illusion of similarity fell apart all too quickly. They weren't the warm, sparkling, caring and ingenuous sapphire eyes that he'd grown up with - they were somewhere between blue and amethyst, shinning with unearthly silver, and deepened with malevolence; an innate desire a lust for all things deceptive and destructive laying deep within. She looked wild, like a caged animal - her hair swirled around her body and soft strands would stick to her full, amaranth lips; she would look at him with a lust for everything wrong and yet there was something deep within her waiting jump out. Another person, long chained and turned rabid in their desire to be free. The remnants of long, long ago.

But he too looked just like she wanted. He looked similar to her - similar enough to suffice for her vanity. He was blonde, light blonde but not as unnaturally as the old friend he'd known. His eyes weren't quite the same shade between sapphire and amethyst that hers were and they didn't shine with an unearthly glow, but they held that same amethyst tone, and they shone with a glassy, silver layer. His features were sharp like hers, and could never pass for Baronian. In other words, he was almost the male version of her, and she relished it. She abandoned her three toys for him, her eyes lighting up with dark intentions the moment she laid eyes on him. She was just the toy she wanted, with all the right looks, all the right parts, and the right mind to match hers.

And they both held command of the skies. If she could glide over the sky, he could jump just as high. If she could conjure up a storm, he could ride it. They were like a yin and yang in that sense, and they were each other's downfall too. She might be able to conjure a storm of protection, but he could pierce it. He might be able to ride the winds, but she could pull it from beneath his feet, and she could send scores of lightning bolts to pick him from the sky. But they never told the other that - they kept their foils to themselves, deceiving each other to the last. That was both their downfalls, in the end.


	4. 013. Grave

_013\. Grave_

She stood there, at the newest addition to the Baronian Graveyard. Someway from the city, the large plot stood in the field, verdant emerald grass lapping at the bottom of the stone plaques, soil hiding the dead corpses in elaborate boxes far beneath her feet.

She never wanted to do this, she never wanted to bury her friend. She always thought he'd live a long time, what with his strong body and sturdy health. But she had, with no body to put in the plain casket. He wasn't a king, and he was barely a prince, so his stone had been shifted to the corner, unnoticeable next to the great monuments left for other Kings, and statues left for Queens. She and Cecil would be buried like that one day, entwined together in death.

It had been nigh on eight years since she'd seen him last, and she regretted not cherishing his final memory, but rushing time so she could be with Cecil instead. Her eldest child was six now, and all three of them were oblivious to the kind, stoic dragoon who'd helped her through so much in life, been a friend to her since she could remember.

She always blamed herself for his disappearance. She knew he held some feelings for her, but she ignored it in the face of Cecil's shining love. She knew how it must've tortured him, but she led him down the garden path anyway. She would never forgive herself for that, no matter how unintentional it was, nor how much Cecil urged her to let it fade.

"I'm so sorry Kain." She said aloud in the damp sprinkling of misting rain, in the darkness of the day. "I never wanted to bury you, but I suppose I am now. I didn't mean to lead you on or torture you, and now you're..." She crouched down, taking a deep breath. "Now you're probably dead."

She looked at the long stems of grass protruding through her fingers, the soft sheen on it and the slippery feel of it between her fingers. She could smell the freshness of it, and the rich smell of the freshly dug out earth, and the sweet scent of the never fading yellow and blue roses she'd planted at his grave months ago.

"Thank you for always listening to me, always being there. Cecil listens to me, but I take care of three young children..." She wrapped a few strands of the verdant grass around her fingers and pulled, examining the strands closely with delicate sapphire eyes, before giving them to the wind. "No one ever listens to me quite like you did. You were always willing to help. I'll never get that again now."

She stood, brushing her clothes off of any stray threads of grass or clumps of soil. "I miss you, Kain. I always will." She began to turn away, but with one hesitant foot, she looked around once more. "Please, if you're out there, come back to us."

But there was no response. She felt a crisp eddy of cackling wind brushing her by, and the gentle wavering of the wind. She left behind the flowers and the grass and the solid plaque of grey, marble rock.

_Kain Highwind, son of King Odin._

_284 - 313_

_Long may he serve the Dragoons in the afterlife._

_Long may he be missed by the King and Queen._

_Long may he be remembered._


	5. 036. Threat

_036\. Threat_

"You know I'm a threat to you." She whispered in my ear, the heat of her breath stinging my skin with every word she spoke. "You know I could curse you, maim you, kill you anytime I wanted." She threatened, sinking her teeth into the skin of my neck as a sign of what could come. The mark stung, but not enough to jolt my placid mind; I felt a bead or two of blood roll down my next in a scarlet cascade, but I didn't care.

I was so well controlled by them, that I couldn't do anything for myself, merely think, contained within the smallest salvageable part of my conscience. I don't know if I would've objected had I been in control at that moment. I'd certainly partook in much more when I could move, when the world felt like it was in a haze, rather than being played out in front of me, for me.

"You know that isn't true." I said with a husky voice, saying words that escaped from my mouth without my knowing. My limbs felt numb and leaden. "You know you'll follow every order of Our Leader." I almost hissed. Perhaps this was just one big ego trip for Golbez, or that 'Zemus' as it finally turned out, but I doubt it. It was just my deepest darkest thought, slithering out of my lips like a foul, murky smoke; the conspirators who were tying down the only remaining good tendrils of my mind as though they were limbs to be tied to a chair. One half of my mind was keeping the other captive.

In the glowing, furiously blue light of the unnervingly metallic room, I saw her eyes glint from the shadows they were in, bright cerulean glinting with malice, and bitterness, and anger, and joy. And her teeth, as threateningly sharp as the pointed canines were, glistened like daggers covered by her soft, full, dangerous lips. I would still kiss her lips even of all her teeth were as torturous as those canines.

I heard the slap of her pale, long-fingered and claw-like nailed hand before I felt the smarting on my skin.

"You bastard." She hissed, padding away on her alarmingly dainty feet, that no matter what she walked on shoeless, never seemed to bare any cuts or marks. She was ethereal, demonic, and totally lustful. Gods have mercy on her. And on me. I'd heard the others note her heightened sense of anger and resentment when they occasionally passed my cell or used me for some menial task, but they'd put it down to the increasingly frantic patterns of the wind. They feared for themselves if a storm were to come.

"You would do anything for your lord and master." I felt myself gloat, but my mind yelled at my lips to stop. I feared what she would do to me; even if I knew she wouldn't entirely kill me.

She flew over to me, her sharply-featured face a stormy rage. "You dare to mock me!?" She hissed, her voice akin to that of thousands of snakes. "You shall see what happens when you mock me, even if you are my favourite."

She pushed her hand up to my throat, her sharp nails unnervingly close to my skin; her two glinting canines folded over her mouth like those in the pictures of vampyres meant to scare the children.

But I leant forward and kissed her before she could register, and I diverted the oncoming messy, bloody, mortal fate to a more pleasurable one. My lips hissed her name in a rasping tone several times, and many fewer times than her name went through my mind. Even if her teeth were on display like a threatening knife.

 


	6. 071. Autumn

_071\. Autumn_

Browning, decaying leaves crunched and crumbled and squelched beneath his silent, navy-armoured foot, each step bringing him closer, closer to his prey.

A branch creaked. The maze of trees before him swayed, ever so slightly, in the breathy wind. Another branch snapped beneath a footfall, and he stood, stock still, looking for anything that might have come into his path.

The wind brushed along his exposed hands and the nape of his neck, like an affectionate breath. To his straining ears, it sounded like a giggle, and to his widened eyes, he thought he saw a swish of gossamer blonde fabric.

Nothing was there, he decided. He hurried on, navigating his way through the forest, trying to find his prey, that which he needed to find for... For... He didn't know.

He caught a glimpse of red, perhaps, or maybe the sweet note of a lyre song. Yes, this was his prey. The notes shimmering on the air were just as he remembered from times long past - of hurried visits to Damcyan, and the unusual prince he'd found there. Or were they his? They felt like they belonged to another. Another, whose life and name and friends and family hovered just out of his desperate reach.

The wind swished against his skin again as he prowled in the autumnal forest, winding around the maze of trees and drawing his long lance with every step, shined until gleaming in the blood-like, rotting leaves.

The lyre notes grew stronger, and he peered around the thick tree trunks, through the evening mist. Retrieve, not kill. Those words ran like a mantra through his mind, even though he felt some perverse bloodlust, an insatiable itch that floated around his mind, springing from no emotion in particular.

He prepared to throw his spear, feeling the muscles under the veined skin of his left arm and chest ripple in practised precision, and aim for a non-deadly landing.

"Hahaha. Oh Kain, do you think you could kill me?"

The wind whirled furiously around him, and he dropped his spear unceremoniously, knowing she's caught him out, again.

She stood before him, dressed in barely any red material at all - only to cover what she needed to - and a lyre under her arm, with a devious smile on her exotic face. As she took every breath, the comforting wind kissed his skin. She controlled everything about the wind. She was the wind.

"You!" He spoke in a harsh voice he barely recognised, teeth gritted. He felt anger towards her for stopping his bloodlust; an anger so strong it held back another emotion that felt to him like sweet water, or air after being stuck under the ocean.

She giggled again, with a harsh biting tone like crushed glass hiding under her voice. "It is always me, Kain. Haven't you realised this yet?" Her grin was wide, and her purple eyes sparkled in the gloomy, dying forest. Her canines pointed over her full lips ever so slightly; he knew the danger her every fibre carried.

"I didn't know you..." his tongue felt tied, and he struggled to say the rest of his sentence,"you could play the lyre."

She snorted, and yet managed to make even that sound graceful. "I was a Lady once, Kain. Before I became a monster."

He frowned, yet made no move to contradict her. She said nothing to prompt a correction from him.

"You are looking for King Edward?"

He nodded and wanted to say something, say anything about that man... He couldn't. His tongue felt bound to the bottom of his mouth, no matter how desperately he tried to speak.

"Well well, the little dragoon can't speak." She giggled again, her voice like little chimes on the wind. "Master put a partial memory blocker on you? But yet won't let you speak of the past. Pity, I wanted to watch you squirm."

He heard the words she said, understood that they were both speaking the same language, yet he couldn't retain nor process what she said. He felt dumb and completely helpless. His master, the man in heavy black armour, did not fully trust him... Would not let him venture outside the Tower alone. The first time he was allowed to, his master had allowed his memories of his prey to fall back into his mind, but he could not speak of the past, nor run off he wanted to.

He knew he was trapped, but he was also utterly confused as to why.

"Well," he stated, turning back to the matter at hand, "your target was false, and you are to return with me to the Tower. Master has deemed that you may be trusted, at least a bit." She snorted, and laughed at how little their master trusted him, but paid her no mind.

As she whisked them up, up, and out of the autumnal forest and back into the glowing confines of the blue-silver tower, his entirely blank memory returned, and he only felt hunger for this monster, this lord of the winds, this creature, once a lady. Once a different person, just like he suspected he was.

He knew he had been manipulated. He knew that he had no control over his actions and that once ensnared in the mind control, he could do little to get out of it. The only action of all the atrocities he committed that he could remember without an avalanche of shame, was the brief periods of time he spent with the Wind Fiend, when she too broke through the hatred and they were both confused and alone and not entirely themselves. Every autumn, when the leaves fell to the ground and the trees would die almost overnight, he remembered her - wild hair, burning, hungry eyes, and pupils that contained another fighting to be released.

When the leaves were almost all fallen and decayed into nothing but moulding mush, he remembered when she had proven that once, she truly had been another, not the wind demon Barbariccia.

And he learnt her true name.


	7. 050. Other

_050\. Other_

Her eyes had such a lovely sapphire hue, and there really was no other word to describe them with but 'lovely'. They swirled in the night and glistening in the day, but they never truly lit up when she looked in my direction. She was maternal in nature, and you could see that reflected in her swirling eyes, endless orbs of the purest azure - there was no streak of ill-will in them, nor was there any indicator of fury in them. She was an exemplary paradigm of all things pure in the world - reflected in the pure eyes. It never surprised me that she became a White Mage, it was in her nature - and in her blood. She was the perfect candidate, with gentle, still hands, a caring manner and the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen.

His eyes were amethyst; an intense hue that seemed to pierce your soul with every look. They intrigued me and inspired some form of morbid arousal in my soul. They were always hidden behind his helmet, under the dark shade that formed there and the purplish hue couldn't be seen through - not even a glimmer in the darkness. They were always tortured, even from a young age - telling what lay on his heart plainly, the pain of having no family, the curse he held, and the continuous haunting of something... Something else, that I could never recognise.

But _his_ eyes were so pure and clear, now. They were bright like singing crystals and held all the truth of the world in them. There was still the lingering ghost of the past haunting their bright depths. The ghosts of his lost family. But he looked strong. He looked like a leader - with clarity in his eyes and a firm set in the depths of the luminous cerulean. But he wasn't stern and stony - not at all, not with me. He was kind and caring. He was warm to his core, which was mirrored in the edges of his bright eyes - they glowed with a warmth that had nothing to do with heat - they were all him, and his mind centre. He was nothing like his past now, nothing like the dark amethyst id always seen through the shade of his midnight helmet, nor were they like the amethyst of his friend, of my friend. In him, I could see a man I could follow. In him, I could see a man I could marry.

Her eyes have always had this lovely sapphire hue; and there really was no other word to describe them but 'lovely' - when she was just relaxing, not paying attention to the world. They swirled in the moon and glistened in the sun, but they only truly lit up when she looked in my direction. She was maternal in nature, and you could see that reflected serenely in her swirling eyes; the endless orbs of the purest azure... But there was certainly a streak of fury in them, and an indicator of her endless passion in them. She wasn't an exemplary paradigm of all things pure in the world, but she was close to it, and it was reflected in the pure eyes. It never surprised me that she became a White Mage, it was in her nature - and in her blood, from her feisty mother. She was the perfect candidate to be one, certainly, with gentle, still hands, a caring aura and the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. Even from when I was young, I knew I would give up my whole world to see those eyes look up at me every time I woke up.


	8. 054. Nowhere

_054\. Nowhere_

She was like a queen of ice - a snow queen - freezing and capturing my heart in a sudden frenzy of cold, deadly emotion. And then, out of nowhere, pulling it back whenever she so pleased with a click of her pointed fingers. She was not quite like the Water Archfiend Cagnazzo, who emanated an aura of cool and chaotic liquid power around him at all times; no. She was far more unpredictable, relying perhaps too much on her emotions for her powers.

Perhaps it was only me she had affected. When I could see with my own eyes, feel with my own hands, think with my own mind - she was always on hand, always ready to encapsulate me in her stormy emotions, or freeze my heart and shatter it with a blink of her bright, angular, sultry eyes. She had me on a leash that none could see; no matter the torment, no matter the pain, I would crawl back to her every time. When I was down on my knees, pleading for respite from her hits or taunts of pleasure, I'd still come back to her open, beckoning hand. I was like an animal, being cast into the middle of nowhere, but returning back to her every time.

I'm not sure if I ever loved her. She had me in the throes of passion, in the heady state of obsessive limerence, never letting me far from her control in my lucid hours. And yet, I've often thought that she may have just been controlling me as much as Golbez did. Manipulating my mind, preying on my already raw emotions. She wanted me, needed me, and so she would have me. Like an ice queen, she laughed down at me - the sound, a thousand tinkling shards of ice - she was almost cruel to me. Maybe I was just convenient, having sprung from nowhere, and would go back to nowhere as soon as my use was spent.

And despite this, she sometimes lay with me in placid silence. Sometimes, she would talk to me in a strangled voice of things other than threats and violence and cackling taunts. Sometimes, she would look at me with eyes full of what I dared to think was love. It was a sordid, cruel, all too abusive relationship, but I think during those times I did grow to love her.

And then, as soon as my mind needed to be controlled once more, the doubt seeped in from the deep nowhere of mind, and I was easy prey once more.


End file.
